lost love lingers
by swanfrost
Summary: pieces for the NiF drabble challenge found here: archiveofourown[.]org/collections/Nirvana in Fire Drabble Challenge
1. home, that's where the hurt is (jingrui)

a/n: for nif drabble challenge week 1.

Prompt: Home, that's where the hurt is. (jingrui picks up the pieces)

* * *

 **take your time; you are coming home to yourself**

There is a certain rhythm to the process of healing, one that requires you to carefully bandage your wounds before ripping them off before bandaging them and ripping them off again –

Jingrui stands within the walls of his own house in the aftermath of the fateful party and realizes with a sudden clarity that the hallways and corners and rooms he thought he called home are too foreign, too cold for him now. Here, there is nothing but a mass of pain, confusion, doubt. The walls are closing in, cornering him.

It has been a week and he still cannot look his mother in the face, denying all her requests to see him; he cannot speak his father's (not through blood, not through love, but still his father in name and in ink) name without betrayal cutting deep into his bones.

But you see, Jingrui has never been the kind of person to let self-doubt and fear paralyze him from grasping the reins on his own life so he picks up his sword and saddles his horse and says to the young girl who calls him _brother_ : _take me to your home_ (because maybe, maybe he will find a place that doesn't hold secrets underneath the floorboards and between the walls).

When he leaves the city proper, thundering past the gates and onto a well-worn path heading south, he does not look back. He will, after all, return once more (for _home_ is not so easily uprooted and destroyed, no matter the blood spilt on its grounds).

For now, the only way is forward. So forward he goes.


	2. the remnants of sound (xia dong)

a/n: for nif week 2!

I did the minimal amount of research for this so please excuse any glaring canon or historical inaccuracies. I got Xia Dong's ages when she married and when the Chiyan Army went off to war from here: goo . gl/RQT6os.

Prompt: yúyīn ( 餘音 / 余音) the remnants of sound that stay in the ears after the sound has stopped

or, Xia Dong, love, and the process of healing.

* * *

 **echo, echo**

This is where their story starts:

Three minutes to the midnight marking the beginning of her sixteenth birthday, Nie Feng grasps her hands tightly in his and whispers, "Xia Dong, will you marry me?"

The question is almost lost in the noises of the night as the incessant whirr of crickets fills her ears. In fact, Xia Dong stares at her hands (and the ones that hold them) and finds she has no words to say.

In front of her, Nie Feng has gone quiet, still, breath hung in suspension as he waits. But his hands don't leave hers, and belatedly, Xia Dong hopes that her master has not yet noticed her absence.

"Xia Dong?" Nie Feng prompts again, gently, carefully, as if he is cradling a firework about to explode.

She jerks out of her reverie, inhales sharply, lets her fluttering heart settle before a glowing smile breaks across her face. "Yes," she answers to the man she's loved for two years and known for so much longer, "Yes, yes, _yes_."

(They seal it with a kiss, and Xia Dong wonders if this is what it means to feel alive.)

\\\\\\\\\

Unfortunately, takes some wheedling for Xia Jiang to finally give his consent. It helps that Nie Feng has begun to make a name for himself as a military general, climbing up the ranks of the illustrious Chiyan army, and that Xia Dong has the time of her life sparring him. In the end, Xia Dong swears on her life that she will always put the Xuanjing Bureau before any familial obligations, and Xia Jiang relents.

They marry in the spring of Xia Dong's seventeenth year – a small affair, open to only close friends of Xia Dong and Nie Feng. The entire ceremony passes in a joyous, blinding blur. For the first and last time in her life, Xia Dong dresses in clothing fit for a noblewoman, beautiful robles that fit snugly around her waist, dangling headdress pinned in her hair.

Nie Feng cups her face in his hands and says over and over again, "I love you."

Even though Xia Dong has heard him say this so many times, it still makes her smile like a child. His words, his voice echoes in her ears, a confession and a promise and a pact signed in blood. It is in the language Xia Dong understands the most – political intrigue wrapped in bone deep loyalty and unfaltering resolve. In response, Xia Dong playfully hits him on the arm and says, "You're so sappy," but this is also how she says _I love you_ and Nie Feng is perfectly fine with that.

\\\\\\\\\

When Xia Dong is twenty five years old, the Chiyan army is called to the forefront of the battlefield. Nie Feng returns home late that night, lips set in a grim line, shoulders stiff.

Unsurprisingly, he finds Xia Dong waiting for him, quietly filling out paperwork by candlelight, a cup of warm tea by her hands.

"My duty calls," Nie Feng says, voice laden with sadness. "I do not know how long we will fight."

But you see, Xia Dong knew what marrying a general would entail when she was seventeen, and she knows now that like her obligation to the Xuanjing Bureau, Nie Feng must respond to the commands of his superiors.

So Xia Dong does not cry, she does not wallow in sadness. Instead, she smiles and lays down her brush. "When will you leave?" she asks gently. Unspoken: _what can I do for you until then?_

"We will depart in a week and a half," her husband answers, and then smiles wryly. "But for now, I am tired and you must be too. Let us rest."

She leans over and blows out the candle, then accepts Nie Feng's outstretched hand without another word.

\\\\\\\\\

When Xia Dong wakes up the morning of Nie Feng's scheduled departure, she finds that the house is empty. For a moment, panic seizes her chest, and she throws off the covers and hurries out of her bedroom, not even bothering to change out of her night clothes.

On the dining table is a note, scripted in Nie Feng's careful handwriting, held to the table by a small jade necklace.

Shivering in the morning chill, Xia Dong carefully picks up the letter. It is short and bittersweet, but full of love.

 _My dearest Xia Dong_ , the letter begins, and she laughs in spite of herself. Part of her wants to set the letter down, fold it up, tuck it away, but the logical part of her heart forces her hands to stop shaking.

She reads the letter – in it, Nie Feng professes his undying love to her no less than ten times, but Xia Dong hears his warning loud and clear between the lines.

 _Please do not mourn me if I never return_.

* * *

This is where their story ends:

A lone messenger, bearing the blood red flag of the Chiyan army, thunders through the gates of the capital. He is injured, bleeding through his army and gasping for breath. It is an immediate spectacle, for rumors of the Chiyan army's betrayal had circulated just weeks before. Almost immediately, the soldier is surrounded by imperial guards and brought before the emperor.

Xia Dong does not know what was said behind those doors, but when the meeting adjourns, Xia Jiang approaches her with a grim expression. Her heart falls to her stomach.

"What is the news?" she asks, wiping her palms on the fabric of her clothes. "What happened to the army? What happened to my husband?"

Xia Jiang hesitantly places a hand on her shoulder – a gentle, father-like gesture he has not done since she was a child. Now Xia Dong knows for certain that there will be nothing but terrible, terrible news.

"Please," she whispers, caring little that they are right outside the emperor's meeting hall, "You must tell me."

Her mentor swallows, pain flickering in his eyes. "I am sorry," he says, gruff but not unkind. "But Nie Feng has died in battle and as a traitor to our emperor. I promise you I will do everything I can to clear you of any suspicion, for I know you are nothing but loyal – "

"You are lying!" Xia Dong cries out, slapping Xia Jiang's hand away, "That's impossible! He – Nie Feng – He _would never_ \- !"

But Xia Jiang face is set in stone, and when the crushing, crushing reality finally sinks into her bones, Xia Dong falls to her knees. She does not realize she is crying until Xia Jiang places an arm on her shoulder and gently (again – such a foreign motion) helps her stand again.

"I am sorry," Xia Jiang says again, and Xia Dong is crying too hard to think too hard about what exactly his words could mean.

\\\\\\\\\

A few months later, after Xia Dong has moved out of her (and Nie Feng's) old apartment and into the Xuanjing Bureau barracks, she requests a week's leave from work. Xia Jiang raises an eyebrow, but once he reads the listed reason, he signs off on it without another word.

"Travel safely," is all he says, and Xia Dong rides out of the capitol with a cloak to keep warm and a small ceremonial tablet wrapped safely in a sack strapped to her horse's flank.

At first, Xia Dong does not have a destination. She grips the reins tightly and urges her horse to keep going, keep running, on and on and on – when the poor beast finally stops, panting heavily and whining pitifully, she raises her head and realizes night is falling.

Quickly, quietly, she sets up camp. Sleep does not come easy to her, and she spends most of the night staring up into the sky, tracing the constellations she can see through the tree-top canopies with her eyes. Eventually, she rolls onto her side and closes her eyes, the pounding of her heart too loud in the silence.

The next day, Xia Dong is riding by daybreak. She still does not know where she is going, but that is fine. She hasn't known where she is going since the news of Nie Feng's death reached her ears.

However, this is what Xia Dong _does_ know: her husband would not want her to drown in the past like this; she is strong enough, brave enough to pull her head out of the water; and most importantly: she will draw her own map if that is what it takes to get back on her feet.

\\\\\\\\\

In the next town Xia Dong comes across, she rests for lunch in a small but busy teashop. Nursing a cup of warm tea and digging into a simple meal of vegetables and rice, she lets out a sigh and, for the first time in days, relaxes her shoulders. The atmosphere in the shop is pleasant and warm, and in her fatigue, she lets the scattered conversation fall over her shoulders like a blanket. After all, it is quite the different world from the toxic, stifling world of the court and to a lesser extent, the Xuanjing Bureau.

The peasants sitting next to her are passionately discussing a nearby mountain – Xia Dong picks out the name _Mount Gu_ amongst the chatter. Curious, she sits up straighter and strains her ears.

"It really is beautiful," one of the peasants says, "And not difficult to climb at all! I can't believe you've never been there."

"I have fields to tend to," the other one scoffs, "And no reason to climb a mountain, scenery or not."

"That's what everyone says," the first peasant laments, tapping his chopsticks against his plate.

Xia Dong turns around and puts on her best smile. "Hello," she says, "Can you tell me more about this mountain?"

\\\\\\\\\

The mountain _is_ beautiful. Even in the late autumn chill, the sun manages to slip through the leaves and warm her skin. Colorful leaves litter the ground her horse treads through, and every so often she will see birds fluttering in the trees, birdsong filling the air.

Xia Dong clicks her tongue and her horse speeds up to a crisp trot. She has torn her eyes away from the scenery now, and wonders where in the world she might place a memorial tablet. Perhaps, in the future, once she has a little more time and a little more money, she will set a proper memorial into the earth, but for now, she must make do with what she has.

In the end, she chooses a spot by the side of the mountain path, protected by a backdrop of rocks and moss. Swinging down from her horse, Xia Dong carefully unties the bag with the memorial tablet and takes it out, running her fingers over the name carved into its surface.

 _Do not mourn me_ , Nie Feng had said, so she places the tablet against the rocks and lights a few sticks of incense instead.

"I will not mourn you," she tells the tablet as she kneels respectfully, "But I refuse to forget you."

When Xia Dong finally closes her eyes and prays, she feels as if the weight on her shoulders becomes just a little bit lighter.

* * *

But this is where Xia Dong picks up a brush and begins to carefully, lovingly write in the next chapter of their lives:

Meng Zhi nods at her when she passes him in the street. He is alone, dressed in casual wear, and that in itself is somewhat suspicious. It is the middle of the day, and the emperor is in the midst of turmoil, as seen from his recent outbursts.

"Your day off?" Xia Dong asks, pausing in step. Meng Zhi may be the country's most fearless warrior, but he is absolutely terrible at keeping secrets. Even now, he flinches slightly and fidgets with the hem of his sleeve.

"Not quite," he says, coughing lightly to hide his surprise. "But I was hoping to run into you today."

Xia Dong narrows her eyes. She has a package of scrolls in her hands, meant to be delivered to the Xuanjing Bureau's record keepers, but Meng Zhi has been talking to her a lot more than normal recently, and she plans to uncover why.

"What for?" she asks, "Surely you've more important things to do."

Meng Zhi laughs boisterously, then steps forward to clap her roughly on the shoulder. Something light drops from his hand into the crook of her arm, caught in the folds of her elbow.

"Nothing really," he says, looking satisfied, "Just wanted to update you on the case you've been working on."

With a wry smile, Xia Dong moves to shift the package in her arms, smoothly taking the object – a folded piece of paper – and sliding it into her sleeve. "Oh, do tell," she says, locking her eyes with his. Her smile does not reach her eyes. _What are you hiding_? she wants to ask.

Laughing nervously, Meng Zhi takes a step back. "Please," he says jokingly, even though Xia Dong can hear the slight fear in his voice, "It's probably not what you think."

They make small talk, but once Xia Dong realizes that Meng Zhi has finished his job and has no more information or clues to offer her, she cuts the conversation short with a curt bow and a flat goodbye. Meng Zhi takes the clue and leaves.

\\\\\\\\\

The note says, _meet me by the eastern bridge two hours after daybreak, one week from now. Stay hidden._

Xia Dong burns the slip of paper immediately, and she is still no closer to an answer than she was a few hours ago.

\\\\\\\\\

Slipping on a heavy black cloak, Xia Dong slips out of her room, easily maneuvering past the guards stationed outside the Bureau. It does not take long for her to reach the bridge, and she is met with the sight of Meng Zhi waving at her from atop a horse. Behind him is a small carriage.

"What in the world is going on?" she demands, alarm bells ringing in her head.

"Look," Meng Zhi says, pleadingly, "I promise everything will make sense when we get there."

"When we get _where_?"

"Mei Changsu's house."

She freezes, but after she turns the words over in her head, she sighs. "What in the world could that man want with me?" Xia Dong mutters. But Meng Zhi is not a man who would willingly bring a friend into harm, so she steps inside the carriage.

"If this isn't worth my time," she still warns before she lets the curtain drop, "you will regret it."

She doesn't stay outside long enough to see his grimace, but she does catch the words _oh, it will be worth your time._

 _\\\\\\\\\_

It is definitely, definitely worth her time.

\\\\\\\\\

She steps onto the stone patio and her heart leaps into her throat. At first, she does not understand what she is seeing. There is Mei Changsu sitting next to a man covered from head to toe with long, white fur. But there is something – something so achingly familiar in the shape of his jaw and the curve of his eyes and the hopeful, hopeful way he looks at her.

For a moment, Xia Dong cannot move. It's not possible, it _can't_ be possible – but it is, and now the man (Nie Feng, she thinks fiercely, _Nie Feng_ ) is standing up and moving toward her like nothing else in the world exists.

There is something burning in her chest, a mixture of confusion and happiness and disbelief, and she is so, so shocked she does not realize that tears have welled up in her eyes, that her hands have begun to shake and that she has barely taken a breath since she first laid eyes on her husband.

Her husband. _Alive_.

And now, now Xia Dong realizes that the burning in her chest is that of love, a fire so fierce and so wild and so loyal it has never, ever died in the long, thirteen years she has carried it through heartbreak and healing.

When she kneels in front of him, blinking through her own tears, running her hands along his fur and carefully, loving takes his hands and hers, she hopes that he understands.

Nie Feng squeezes her hands and tries for a wobbly, teary smile that makes her laugh, and that is when she knows that his love too has never, ever faltered.

"You came home," she whispers, holding onto his hands so tightly as if she were afraid to let go, "You finally came home."


End file.
